


Performance Anxiety

by Engineer104



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: And Of Course - Freeform, Anxiety, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Making Out, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Content, Wedding Night, i'm sorry for writing this (i think)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Annette’s worried she’ll disappoint Felix. He just wants to understand why.Or: Annette’s perfectionism and eagerness to please bring about a problem in the bedroom.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Performance Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a little ridiculous (but fun! i hope) and i don’t go into any sort of sexual politics around abstinence or the wedding night or consummating a marriage or whatever like i’ve seen in a handful of other fics because i’m just having fun writing a dumb but hopefully somewhat sexy fic where Felix comforts his anxious wife, and that is all. no thoughts head empty except newlywed netteflix comfort featuring lots of making out and candid conversation about...sexpectations ~~for that pun i will NOT apologize~~
> 
> ANYWAY the sex (so much as it exists) is not at all explicit but it IS present and blatant and there is lots of making out or, as the grownups call it, foreplay. so. yeah. *hides head in sand* enjoy?

They slept together on their wedding night, literally. In the accursed suite reserved for House Fraldarius in the castle in Fhirdiad, with its obnoxiously huge and soft bed, with the thick bedspread tossed off for the summertime heat, when he hesitated to take his shirt off too because he realized he wasn’t sure what Annette expected that night, if anything.

But then she flopped face-first onto the mattress, still in the many layers of her blue wedding gown and with her hair’s intricate styling, and he decided they’d both be better off sleeping.

He convinced her to undress then. He helped her unlace her needlessly complicated dress and disentangle the pins from her hair. She smiled at him so sweetly his face warmed and he lost all ability to speak before her expression faltered and she said, “D-do you think we can wait?”

He blinked in confusion, though perhaps if he hadn’t been so tired after the day’s festivities he might’ve understood. “Wait for what?”

“It’s our wedding night, Felix,” Annette said. She clasped her hands in her lap, lacing and unlacing her fingers, her humming syncopated and betraying her nerves. “Our wedding night...when we’re expected to...have sex. Obviously.” She didn’t look at him, her face pink.

And then Felix couldn’t look at her either with heat rising to his own cheeks, half out of embarrassment at his stupidity (had he not _just_ been considering that?) and at her bluntness. “W-we don’t have to do that tonight,” he assured her. “We can just, um, we can sleep?” 

She sagged, relieved, and brightened before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pronouncing, “I would happily kiss you before bed though.”

He smiled and cupped her chin to angle her face closer to his and oblige her.

Felix fell asleep with Annette encircled in his arms, her body a pleasant heat in the night but almost unbearable come morning. He woke her as he shifted in bed, trying to slip away from her to take off his shirt without disturbing her, only for her to face him and blink sleepily at him and mumble a good morning in a voice that sent a shiver up his spine.

Her eyes grew round then, landing on his chest, but before he could put his shirt back on she grabbed his wrist and dragged him back into bed with her.

He thought that would be it, with eager, hungry kisses and racing hearts adjacent, with one of his hands buried in her hair and the other slipping under the hem of her shift in search of bare skin, with her breath hot and unsteady in his ear and his lips on her neck and her fingers featherlight and hesitant on his abdomen and—

She pulled away from him, sudden as if alarmed, and before he could ask her what happened, if he did anything wrong, she darted into the washroom and closed the door behind her. He hesitated to chase after her, at least long enough to collect himself, but when he knocked on the door Annette claimed to feel ill.

“Did I...do something?” Felix wondered.

“N-no!” she protested. “You’re fine! I just, um, my stomach hurts, that’s all.”

He knew that, for some reason, she was lying; he heard it in her voice, and it made his chest tighten. Yet in case he was wrong - because surely she must be; what reason did Annette have to lie to him? - he asked, “Should I send for a healer? Mercedes should still be—”

“I’m fine!” Annette said. “It’ll pass! Maybe I’m just hungry; I didn’t eat much during our wedding.”

“You…” Worry made his own stomach clench, but he sighed and said, “Then let’s get dressed and go for breakfast. We’re leaving for Fraldarius later.”

“Y-you go ahead without me!” she called. “I’ll be right after you!”

“Annette…”

“Don’t worry, Felix! Go eat! I’ll find you in the dining hall.”

He slipped out of the guest suite then, though a part of him wanted to barge through the door and demand what was wrong, but he doubted she would thank him for that even if he found his worry was justified. So he did as she suggested, weathering a snide remark from Sylvain about showing himself “awfully” early and barely listening to Dimitri’s and Ingrid’s conversation. 

When Annette slid into the chair beside him, he leaned towards her and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better!” she said, grinning as she reached for a bowl of marmalade to slather a generous amount onto a slice of bread...and grinning even wider when a dollop fell onto his lap after a clumsy attempt at feeding him bread with her own hand. 

Felix might’ve written off the whole incident after that, for Annette behaved no differently around him. She still flushed when he dared to so much as touch her hand in public, she still pouted when he teased her, still smiled when she caught his eye, still listened to him complain about the duties that plagued him, still saw to the preparations for the honeymoon they barely had the time to take.

Still happily cuddled up to him in bed, but soon after they settled together in Fraldarius a pattern emerged.

Every time they initiated...something, every time they engaged in any degree of physical intimacy, Annette would inevitably tear herself away from him and flee. It didn’t matter if it was morning or evening or midday, and it didn’t matter if they were comfortable in bed or if she surprised him with a kiss in his study. They could be lying down or she could be straddling his lap or he could have her with her back to a wall, and she would still find a way to slip past his arms and run.

And when he caught up with her and asked her what was wrong, she would claim to feel ill, or that she was tired, or that she wasn’t feeling up to...it.

And Felix, for all he accepted her excuses, _knew_ something else was wrong even if he didn’t have any idea how to go about fixing it.

(Running it - whatever _it_ was - with his sword wouldn’t help, and he wasn’t foolish enough to try.)

This time he hoped would be different. He braced his hand against her back as he kissed her, swallowing a low moan that tore from her throat when she pressed down against his knee. Her fingers tangled in his hair before she slid them down his back and grabbed the hem of his shirt.

Felix obediently lifted his arms for her to take it off before leaning down again to kiss her jaw, down to her neck, the sliver of skin peeking over the collar of her nightdress. Annette’s arms wrapped around his shoulders to drag him closer.

She overtook his senses, so absolutely, the sound of her ragged breathing and little startled gasps; her scalding touch on his skin; the flowery smell of her perfume and something else that was pure Annette underneath it; her orange hair fanning over her pillow like the sun’s rays and a flush that crept under the collar of her nightdress to match; even the saltiness of her sweat when he licked it from his lips.

He loved her, he ached for her, in this instant his heart literally beat for her, and he’d never wanted her more than he did now.

He needed to show her.

He raised his head to take in her kissed lips, her flushed cheeks, to look into her dark eyes, with his fingers on the hem of her nightdress, but before he could ask for permission to seek more of her, her eyes widened.

Annette planted her hands against his bare chest and shoved him off her.

So startled was he that he fell over with a hiss, and by the time he rolled over the dressing room door had already slammed shut behind her.

Felix lay there, on their bed, panting and alone and...annoyed. He sat up slowly and stared down at his lap before deciding that wasn’t as immediate - or important - a problem as Annette’s constant avoidance of—of _this_.

He buried his face in his hands and sighed, wondering if it would be another night that she would refuse to leave the dressing room until he lay down and pretended to sleep.

His heartbeat and breathing steadied, and still Annette didn’t emerge.

By the time Felix climbed out of bed, his irritation had evaporated, leaving a gut-clenching worry in its place. Whatever bothered Annette enough she _ran away_ from him rather than...engage, it must be awful if she wouldn’t confide in him.

For the goddess’ sake, they were _married_ , and before that they’d courted for six months, and before _that_ they’d been friends and allies for years. He trusted Annette with his life - he knew she trusted him with hers - so why couldn’t she trust him with whatever troubled her now?

Or had he done something wrong?

He wouldn’t even be surprised. He still couldn’t believe she loved him and had agreed to marry him - and _how_ ; she’d tackled him into a hug and nearly knocked them both off their feet when he worked up the nerve to ask - so what if he ruined it somehow?

But this wasn’t about him, so Felix shook that concern away.

He didn’t bother putting his shirt back on before he padded towards the washroom door on quiet feet. He knocked, determined to draw some answers out of her, but only silence greeted him.

He knocked again and called, “Annette? If you don’t open the door I’ll come in.”

More silence, filled only by his heart beating uncomfortably against his ribs, then:

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Really?” he said, unable to keep the skeptical note from his voice.

“I...well…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked her then. Better be blunt; he was tired of her avoiding him. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t—“ Horror gripped him; he had to know. “Did I do something, Annette?”

And it must’ve been something awful, because Annette rarely hesitated to air grievances about him.

“No!” she denied immediately. “You didn’t do anything, Felix! It’s just, well...I don’t know.”

Felix rested his forehead against the door, cursing it for separating him from his wife. “Then come sit with me and tell me about it,” he insisted.

“I...don’t know,” she said, sighing. “It’s a little silly, isn’t it?”

“How would I know if you won’t tell me?” he demanded.

Nothing.

“Are you trying to wait me out until I lose patience and go to bed?” he wondered.

“Maybe,” Annette admitted. “I just...I don’t know if I can explain it, and it’s stupid, and you’re probably still not wearing a shirt which is unfairly distracting, and once I do tell you I don’t know that you’ll still want to...um...”

Heat crawled up Felix’s neck, but he shoved aside any embarrassment to ask, “Still want to what? H-have sex with you?”

Annette’s silence at his blatant question was all the confirmation he needed, yet the problem she faced was as inscrutable to him as always. He straightened and scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing, and said, “I’ll put on a shirt then, even if it’s too damn hot to sleep in one.”

The instant he turned his back, he heard the door creak open. When he glanced over his shoulder, Annette peered out through the crack, as if to ascertain he kept his word. He rolled his eyes at her and slowly and deliberately found his shirt where she’d tossed it aside earlier and tugged it on over his head.

Felix faced her again and crossed his arms. “Happy? Are you going to tell me now why you’re being...weird?”

“I’ll try,” she said, and at last she slipped out of the dressing room and approached him again.

He hid his hands behind his back to avoid touching her, lest he scare her off again, instead watching her settle on her side of the bed. She still wore her summery nightdress, with its short ruffled sleeves and knee-length hem that rode up when she wrapped her arms around her legs.

Felix sat beside her, careful not to get too close, but then her head dropped onto his shoulder and some of the tension eased from his spine. He stretched an arm out behind her and leaned back against the headboard. “So…?”

“We’ve been married for three weeks,” Annette noted.

“Yes?” Three weeks and a day, but he saw no need to correct her and just rested his chin on the crown of her head. “What about that?”

“We’ve been married for three weeks, we’re supposed to leave for Derdriu on our honeymoon, just us on our first married trip, no army with marching orders and barely any retinue, in a few days.”

He hesitantly rested a hand on her waist and tried not to let the thin fabric of her nightdress distract him. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

“And we...still haven’t had...sex.”

“Oh. Well, not for lack of trying,” Felix reminded her, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

Annette shifted against him, warm and soft yet closed off. “It’s my fault,” she mumbled, sounding utterly dejected.

“It’s not,” he said, perhaps too quickly. He racked his brain, trying to think of what might’ve set her off this time. “What did I do? Was I too rough or something?” He’d been a little too rough the first time he kissed her too, but Annette had never complained, and he eventually learned better.

“No, no no no,” Annette said. She pulled away from him, her knees dropped and her arms hugging herself. “It’s not you, you’ve been very, um, you’ve been very...gentle and accommodating, or something like that.” 

She didn’t look at him, which only irritated him more, but he tamped it down. “Annette,” he said as he rested a hand on her knee, “you’re...worrying me a little. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I…” At last her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she confessed in a low voice, “I’m worried it won’t be...good enough.”

“What?” Felix’s brow furrowed as confusion filled him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m worried I’ll be bad at it, because it’s obviously not something I could’ve - or _would’ve_ \- practiced, or, or that maybe I won’t like it, and it’ll be obvious, and you’ll be disappointed by how bad I am and try to annul our marriage and—”

Felix kissed her, quickly, enough to startle her if not to assuage _that_ fear. He cupped her cheek, his lips pressed against hers with her breath sharp and warm on them as he pulled away.

Her gaze met his through her eyelashes. “Um...what does that mean?”

“It means I…” He cleared his throat; damn the words for always getting stuck even now. “I love you. I care less about that than you think.”

“Maybe it’s easy for you to say that _now_ ,” Annette said, a wrinkle forming on her forehead. “What about in a few years when you realize you’ve married someone who doesn’t like having sex with you and is also very bad at it?”

Felix scowled. “Annette, you are literally the only person I’ve _ever_ wanted that with,” he said, “and I’d rather be married to you than not, so...if you don’t want that, then that’s fine.”

Her eyes widened as a slight flush rose to her cheeks, but still she glanced away. “You’re just saying that…” she mumbled.

He let go of her face to bury his in his hands. “Since when do I just _say_ things?” he demanded. “Especially to you?”

“I don’t know!” When he lifted his face she threw her arms into the air. “It took me years to realize you actually liked my songs and weren’t just making fun of me!”

“Yes, but that was something _you_ had to realize,” he said, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice, “not me.”

“But…” Annette sighed. “We can’t take years with this.”

“We can if you need us too,” he said. He touched her shoulder, and when she didn’t wrench away from him he slid his hand down to squeeze her arm. “I’m not an animal, Annette. I won’t force you.” Even as the words left his mouth his lip curled with disgust. 

“I never said you were or that you would,” she grumbled. She rested her hand over his but stared down at her lap. “I just...maybe it is all in my head, but I want it to be perfect for—for both of us.”

This was a trap, Felix knew with a startling clarity. Whether Annette recognized it or not, what he next said to her could either comfort or crush her...if only he knew how to do the former. He took her hand, his thumb skittering over her knuckles, and tried to keep the automatic grimace from his face as he hesitantly offered, “Y-you know what wasn’t...perfect?”

“What?” she said.

“Our, um, the first time I kissed you,” he said. When her jaw dropped - wrong choice, wrong choice, wrong _choice_ \- he rushed to add, “I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never kissed anyone before, but did you, well, _dis_ like it?”

Annette’s jaw snapped shut, and she turned her hand over in his as she considered his words. “I liked it,” she said. Pink colored her cheeks, and she even smiled a little. “I liked it a lot, even if you were evil for surprising me.”

Felix kept the triumphant smirk from his face; it was too soon to call it a victory. “Then do you really think I’d mind if our first time h-having sex was less than what you consider perfect?”

She opened her mouth, probably to protest, but closed it again right away, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I...suppose not,” she agreed with a hum. She snorted then, and rubbed her face with the hand he didn’t hold. “Maybe running away was an overreaction.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Maybe I should’ve...told you right away,” she said. She tucked her hair behind her ear and shook her head, as if disparaging herself.

“That doesn’t matter now that you have,” Felix assured her. He tugged her towards him by the hand, and she easily came.

Annette’s arms fit around him as she snuggled into his side. He felt her sigh against him, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

This part of reassuring her, at least, was easy, and he liked it too.

He rubbed her back with her still pressed against him. She shifted slightly but, to his relief, didn’t move away.

“I love you, Felix,” she said. “You...I’m happy with you, and I do still want to be with you in every way.”

Felix’s face warmed, and he was almost glad she wasn’t looking at his face. “I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he promised.

“Even if I take so long my parents and all our friends and your advisers start asking us when we’re having children?”

He snorted - but damn if the thought of having children with Annette didn’t thrill and scare him at the same time - and neglected to tell her some of their staff had already started dropping unsubtle hints. Instead he said, “I’ll tell them to mind their own damn business.”

She rested her hand over his steadily beating heart. “That’s very rude,” she said, “and also entirely unsurprising.”

He heard the smile in her voice, and in turn one prodded at his lips before he reminded her, “You know, I’ve never...I’m as much a novice as you are, Annette.”

“You’re trying to lower _my_ expectations too?” she said.

Felix was both relieved and exasperated that she felt better enough to return to teasing him, but a smile still nudged at his lips. He half-sat up and leaned towards her to kiss her forehead, warmth filling him when she cupped his face to keep him from slipping too far away. “There’s your proof that it only takes practice,” he said. “Neither of us will be perfect right away.”

“Like practicing swordplay,” Annette suggested. She sat up with him, facing him, close enough he could easily see the shadows playing over her cheeks.

“Like studying magic,” he retorted. She giggled again, with obvious amusement, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Unlike magic, you don’t need to...overthink this.”

“I-I know,” she admitted. “I just—I can’t really help it!”

“Then maybe I need to convince you to stop thinking?” Felix said. “Is that the trick?”

She laughed. “Well...you are probably the only one who _can_ do that,” she conceded, “so…” Her lips slotted over his, warm and suggestive and insistent enough she left him breathless when she pulled away.

He raised an eyebrow at her, but that could hardly hide his eagerness, how his hands slid down to her hips to pull her closer. “You want to try again now?” he asked.

Annette’s lips parted as she seemed to consider it, before she hooked her leg around his waist and climbed into his lap. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s try until we get it right.”

“If you want to stop,” he said, wincing at how he already sounded short of breath, “ _don’t_ run away this time.”

“I won’t,” Annette promised.

Felix threaded his fingers through her hair and angled her face towards his.

And after weeks of trying only for her to break away from him to hide away, she didn’t hesitate to reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. She kissed him, deep and slow, making his heart race in his chest, until he reluctantly tore himself away to tug off her nightdress.

She froze again then smacked his hands away. Felix pulled back, ignoring the urge to get closer, and said, “Or we can go to bed?”

Annette nodded slowly, her gaze downcast. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m not ready yet…”

“I’ll wait,” he reminded her.

She didn’t flee to hide, and when he lay down and tugged the covers over them she leaned towards him and pressed her forehead into his bare chest. 

Felix wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. She exhaled, breath warm on his skin, and he murmured into the quiet bedchamber, “You owe me a song for every time you ran away from me.”

She snorted but rested a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t agree to that,” she complained. 

“You’re agreeing to it now,” he said. “You run away, you sing. I won’t suffer cowardice when you’re the last person who should be scared of me.”

“I’m not _scared_ of you, Felix,” Annette said with a sigh. “I’m scared of...ruining this, us, or something. I love you, I _want_ to give you everything, but messing something up still scares me.”

Felix rubbed the side of his nose. His arm tightened around her and he buried his face in her hair, unsure how to tell her that a large part of him feared that for himself too. 

* * *

It was a beautiful summer morning the day before they were set to travel to Derdriu when Annette held him tightly against her, his back to her chest, even as he tried to slip out of bed. 

“Annette,” he complained, “I have a meeting in an hour.” He didn’t struggle, and maybe that emboldened her. 

“You hate meetings with that lord,” she reminded him. “He always wants a meeting when you’d rather be training, or with me…” Her hands slid up his chest, one resting over a heart that betrayed what her touch inflicted on him. Her breath caressed the shell of his ear as she shifted.

Annette kissed his neck and mumbled into his skin, “Kiss me, Felix. And all the rest. Sh-show me what we’ve been missing.”

Felix shivered but sank back into bed with her. He wasted no time turning and capturing her lips in his, stealing her gasps and taking them for himself. He cupped her jaw with one hand while his other slid down her side, tracing the curve of her body all the way to her knee. 

Annette shuddered but let go of him, but before he could mourn her touch she mused, “Maybe if I do this part…” She half-sat up and reached for the hem of her nightdress before throwing it aside the same way she always did his shirt, leaving her bare. 

And his mouth dry as he drank her in. They’d never gotten this far. 

Annette flushed. “Um...you’re staring,” she complained.

“You always stare at me,” he retorted as heat crept up his own neck. “It’s only fair.”

She almost covered herself, but his fingers wrapped around one of her wrists, his thumb sitting on her thrumming pulse. “Well, um...here we are,” she said. She took his other hand and guided him to touch her. 

At the same time he leaned forward and kissed her again, and again, until her breath rattled in her lungs and his lips tingled and he was lightheaded. Her fingers fumbled for the laces on his sleep pants, and a thrill filled him as Annette helped him forget the meeting that he would certainly be late to. 

It was not perfect.

His head collided with the headboard once, Annette tugged on his hair a little too hard (he might’ve enjoyed that a little too much), he hesitated for too long worrying he’d hurt her, they struggled to find a rhythm, he finished before she did and he had to help her follow with clumsy fingers, they found a stain on the bedsheets he would refuse to explain to whichever unfortunate maid would change them (though he wouldn’t be surprised if Annette ended up changing them herself to spare them the embarrassment), and the whole...activity left them sweaty enough he almost longed for bath.

If it hadn’t been so...draining. Did his usual stamina really not avail him when he wanted to make love to his wife?

“Does your head hurt?” Annette wondered. She half-turned to face him and rested her hand on the back of his head. 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. His eyes narrowed, and despite how eagerly she slumped into his arms (and how she seemed to have forgotten he was late to a meeting as thoroughly as he simply...stopped caring) he couldn’t help worrying. “You—what did you—are you still concerned?”

She shook her head, her hair brushing his chin, but sighed. “It was, um, good.” A fresh flush crept up her neck, and Felix couldn’t help leaning down to kiss it and the lovebite he found. 

She twitched away from him but giggled, and a smile tugged at his lips as he tightened his arms around her waist. 

Her hands found his wrists, one sliding up his arm, a shiver traveling up his spine at her gentle touch. “What about—what about you?” she wondered in a low voice. 

“Nothing to complain about,” Felix mused, nuzzling the side of her head. “Definitely worth being late to a meeting for.”

“Felix,” Annette whined. She bumped her head against his chin. 

His lips brushed the side of her head and he said, “Would’ve been worth waiting another decade for, if it came to it.”

She didn’t say anything, just hummed one of her songs as she leaned back into him. He didn’t mind, he could fall asleep again feeling her breathing against him and comfortable with the knowledge that they’d somehow overcome an obstacle together. 

“I probably just need more training,” he mumbled into Annette’s bare shoulder. 

She hummed and turned her head to glance at him before frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of sword maneuvers again,” she said.

Felix scratched his nose against her hair. She smiled as he pulled her impossibly closer, and turned to face him, her fingers finding his jaw. “Not in the usual sense,” he said.

“Then in what—oh. Oh! You— _scoundrel_!” Annette’s hand collided with his chest, but all he could do was laugh.

And kiss her, soft and sweet, until she smiled again too.

**Author's Note:**

> *bursts out of sand* all my post-AM fics contradict each other and that is all right with me. also i have so many conflicting headcanons too, everything is made up and the points don’t matter. the only important thing is that Felix and Annette have zero experience between them but figured out how to have a good time (presumably). also that Felix shows up to that meeting extremely late with his shirt tucked in crookedly and a button undone and a very obvious hickey on his neck too high for his collar to hide
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
